Repast
by hopefuladdict
Summary: One-shot written for Southern Scribe for the WA holiday fic exchange.


**Disclaimer: I do not own it. Just playing.**

**A/N: Secret Santa story written for Southern Scribe for the WA fic exchange. Happy Christmas and a very Happy New Year.**

**Repast**

_Something taken as food. To eat or Feast, __sometimes prayer following a funeral, common in the Southern__United States_

"You're sulking, Eric."

"No…I'm bored. I'd expect you to know the difference, Pam. We've been together for a while now."

"Yes, we have. That's why I know you're not just _bored_. What you are is impossible. Go. Get the fuck out. Get off your ass and go do something. Go drink someone or fuck someone. I really don't care. Godric is gone, Eric. He chose to leave this world and you can't change it. In my expert opinion you're thinking too much and fucking too little. It really is so very unlike you."

"I really would appreciate it if you'd just shut the hell up."

"Well, tough shit. If I have to put up with the _sulking, _you have to put up with my mouth."

"I hate you right now."

"Well, I hate you more. You want me to bring Ginger in here to engage you in a little small talk with her few remaining brain cells to prove it?"

"Fuck it. Get out of my way."

"With pleasure…" Pam said with a satisfied smirk as she leaned against the wall next to the door while Eric stormed past. "And don't come back until you've fed and fucked!"

Three door slams later Eric was gone.

Xxxx

"Hey handsome, you looking for a date?"

"Get the fuck away from me."

"I don't think you really want me to. You look like you need a little something."

Eric's eyes narrowed, his fangs descended, a simple turn of his head to display them both properly beneath the street corners flickering light and the prostitute fled, apologizing and tripping over his feet as he took flight.

Eric went back to watching the women through the plate glass window across the street as she wrote down an order for food, collected menus and then disappeared through swinging doors to the back of the diner. He would never understand humanity's desire for pie and coffee at midnight.

Xxxx

"Why me?"

"You remind me of someone."

Eric tangled his hand in the woman's hair as they sat facing each other on the floor of her tiny apartment. He scratched her scalp and then combed his fingers through its length, pulling it so the weak light from her window filtered through the strands, revealing a vast spectrum of deep reds.

"Someone special?"

"Not in the way you think."

He pushed her to her back and tugged the sheet that she held fast to her bare chest away and let it settle at her waist. He watched as her flesh trembled and transformed from satiny smooth to gooseflesh as the icy cold of his hand met with the warmth of her skin.

"She was nothing more than a stable hand on my family's estate. I can't even recall her name." Eric said evenly as he palmed her belly. "But she was the last."

"The last?"

"The last woman I had while still a human male."

He did not say the woman I fucked while my family lay dying.

Godric had found him soon after, injured and dying beside a field where he'd battled. Eric had forgone the pleasures of the flesh, forgotten his usually insatiable appetite for the sweet heat of a woman that his father had so often rebuked him for, consumed with nothing but the search for the one who'd decimated his family; the one who walked with wolves.

"And she looked like me."

"She resembled you." He replied succinctly as he shifted from her side to insinuate himself between her legs. He pushed away all thoughts of Godric, and kinfolk caked in blood and wolves that when killed became men. "She had auburn hair, full breasts, wide, soft hips." He gripped her hip then and pressed his hardened member into her yielding body. "She was warm on many cold nights."

"As I am now."

"Yes."

"And you warmed her too."

"Yes. I could warm her too."

"Jane…my name is…"

"I don't care."

Eric drank from her then, wanting all talk to cease. Blood, and sex and silence—that was what he wanted—nothing more. He drank deeply as he moved inside her and felt the warmth beneath him flow into him. His limbs quivered with it, his cheeks and lips colored with its life force. He became harder…moved faster and did not break the silence when he came.

He broke where they were connected, pulling his cock from the warm wet of her sex and eased down her body to brush his newly flushed cheek to her thigh. The silky offering of her sex mingled with the taste of her blood on his tongue as he covered her with his mouth and she moaned.

He was using her.

She didn't care.

Eric Northman brought her a physical pleasure like nothing she'd ever known and she would take what she could get while she could get it. He didn't love her. She didn't love him. But she was willing to keep him warm.


End file.
